


A bit of a turn up

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Sherlock Whump, evil!John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 12:51:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>-set during the great game-</p>
<p>Sherlock shows up at the pool to meet Moriarty. He finds John instead. Things go differently than on the show.</p>
<p>inspired by After Deception by Caidyn, though not the same relationships</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caidyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caidyn/gifts).
  * Inspired by [After Deception](https://archiveofourown.org/works/843101) by [Caidyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caidyn/pseuds/Caidyn). 



The air was humid in the pool building as Sherlock called out for Moriarty. He held up the flash drive and looked around proudly.

"Evening" John said, coming forward dressed in a trim black suit and wicked smile.

The air was knocked from Sherlock's lungs.

"John?" He replied, looking quite ill. "What the hell?"

"This is a turn up, isn't it, Sherlock? Bet you never saw this coming. Of course you're under the adorable assumption that you see everything. Adorable, incorrect, but adorable nonetheless." John said, in a voice turning sing song. John smiled at Sherlock, and then down at the ground. The smile lost it's joy, and became predatory as he strode towards Sherlock, looking up once again. "Nice touch, this, the pool, where little Carl died. I stopped him. I can stop you too. Stop your heart."

"What is this? What are you on about, John? Where's Moriarty?" Sherlock said, his voice turning ragged, hands shaking.

"Oh, Sherlock, don't be so slow." John replied, slipping into an irish lilt. "You didn't think you really got to have a friend, did you? Was I that convincing? Did you _fall_ for Doctor Watson? Well, then, I suppose that was _rather_ the point."

"What are you doing with your voice? Why are you doing this, John?" Sherlock demanded, growing a bit rabid.

"Oh, Sherlock, do stop calling me that. Call me by my real name. Call me Jim, Jim Moriarty, _hi_. Little Johnny was a figment made especially for you. I've become so very bored with him. He was so perfectly _ordinary_." John/Jim replied.

"NO. I won't believe it. What has he done, John? Where is he?" Sherlock hissed.

"Do keep up dear, or this game will be over too soon. Is that my British Browning army L9A1 in your pocket, dear?" Jim said, coming closer to Sherlock, swaying playfully back and forth as he moved.

"This isn't real!" Sherlock yelled.

"I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock. Just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world, professionally, and mentally. I'm a specialist, you see. Like you." Jim said, smiling at his own brilliance.

Realization dawned over Sherlock as he spoke. "Dear Jim, _please will you fix it for me,_ to get rid of my lover's nasty sister. Dear Jim, _please will you fix it for me_ , to disappear to South America..." Sherlock whispered, gun now pointed at Jim's head.

"Just so." Jim responded, grinning crookedly.

"A consulting criminal. Brilliant." Sherlock replied.

"Isn't it? No one ever gets to me, and no one ever will." Jim said, smile fading.

"I did." Sherlock responded proudly.

"You've come the closest, and even your closest wasn't impressive. How many nights did I fall asleep with my head on your shoulder, just to have you let me sleep. How many times did you sip tea that I made without even for a _second_ wondering if it was poisoned? You _have_ come the closest, Sherlock, but that's nothing to brag about. I'm bored with this little game I've created, so you can go now. Back to your lonely life. Did you really think that anyone would find you charming? Did you really think anyone would want to be around you nonstop...no no no, even your mother couldn't handle that. That's why you got sent away at the age of ten, because _even then_ you were too obnoxious for _polite_ company." Jim said, twisting one toe into the concrete, like putting out a cigarette. "But, you acquired proximity. And, now you're in my way."

"Thank you." Sherlock replied, gun still trained on the man he used to think was his only friend.

"Didn't mean it as a compliment." Jim replied.

"Yes you did." Sherlock said, smiling a bit for the first time that night.

"Yeah, okay, I did." Jim said, smiling back. "But the flirting's over Sherlock," Jim said. "Daddy's had enough now." He added in a sing song voice as a chill went down Sherlock's spine.

Sherlock shook, and the gun almost fell from his hands.

"Oh, darling, did that phrase hit a little too close to home? I know you liked calling me daddy in bed. You loved it when I called you baby while choking you on my cock. You were such a good boy for me, weren't you? Maybe if you were just a little bit better I would have stayed. Maybe If you were just a tad cleverer I would have become John, just for you. But I'm _bored_ , and you're _dull_. Just another plain cock slut." Jim said, picking at his fingernails.

Jim looked up at Sherlock and wasn't a bit surprised to see the look of sheer pain in the taller man's eyes. Sherlock seemed to gain his composure and spit at Jim's feet. Jim giggled at that.

"I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning." Jim said. "My dear. Back off. Although," Jim added, smiling maniacally. "I have loved this. This little game of ours. Playing _John_ , the army doctor. Playing _gay_. Did you like the little touch when I professed my _love_ for you?"

"People have died." Sherlock said quietly.

"That's what people do!" Jim screamed.

"I will stop you." Sherlock replied.

"No you won't." Jim said flippantly.

Sherlock reached out a hand with the flash drive towards Jim.

"Take it." He hissed.

"Oh, that....the missile plans." Jim said, taking the small item from Sherlock's hand. He kissed it and turned it over in his hand. "Boring." He professed in his sing song voice, tossing the drive in the pool. "I coulda' got them anywhere."

Sherlock cocked the gun.

" _Good_." Jim said. "Very good. Are you going to kill me, Sherlock?" As he said this five or six snipers trained their little red dots on Sherlock. Jim nodded pointedly at Sherlock's chest. Sherlock looked down and blanched.

"Gotcha'" Jim said, raising his eyebrows.

Sherlock lowered the gun slightly.

"Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock, do you?" Jim asked, brushing nonexistent dust from his suit.

"Oh, let me guess. I get _killed_." Sherlock replied, raising the gun again.

"Kill you? No. Don't be _obvious_. I mean I'm going to kill you anyway, someday. I don't want to rush it though. I'm saving it up for something special. No, no, no. If you don't stop prying, I'll burn you. I'll convince all your colleagues and family that you're just the sick twisted fuck they all suspect you are. I'll convince them that you raped me. I'll convince them that _that's_ why I've gone. You'll get to look like the sociopath you always profess yourself to be. Won't that be nice?" Jim said with a wink. "I'll burn the _heart_ out of you."

"I've been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock replied unsteadily.

"But we both know that's not _quite_ true. You fell for John. You _loved_ him." Jim said smiling. "Well, I better be off. Well, so nice to have had a proper chat."

"What if I was to shoot you now, right now?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, you could cherish the look of surprise on my face." Jim said, feigning horror. "Cause' I'd be surprised, Sherlock, really I would. And just a teensy bit... disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long. Chow, _Sherlock Holmes_."

And with that, Jim left the pool. He left Sherlock standing once again alone. He left Sherlock broken.


	2. Before the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is what happened before the pool. This is how John/Jim won Sherlock's heart.

He'd tried everything to scare the older man off, 'pulled out all the stops' as they say. It seems ridiculous to convince someone to move in with you, and then try to get them to leave, but Sherlock is not your average person and ridiculous seems to fit him quite well. He disregarded privacy, ownership, and even (he would agree) common decency. He took John's things at will, borrowing his laptop without asking and using his clothes for experiments. He pranced around the flat naked and played the violin at irresponsible hours with wild abandon. Even Mycroft had begun to comment on his peculiar attempts to frighten and anger the good doctor. 

In the end, all that came of his antics was his growing affection for John. Even when John grew angry he never stayed that way. All it took was a childish pout, or a strangely timed observation for John to be back at Sherlock's feet like a loyal pet.

For the first few months Sherlock knew he would find the hitch. The one thing that John would absolutely not stand for. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He had no idea how large that proverbial shoe would be. 

Sherlock became comfortable at last, almost a year into their living together. John became not only a part of his life, but also a part of his identity. 'The boffin and the bachelor', the newspapers called them. Even Mycroft started seeing them as a unit. 

Sherlock had put forth the idea early on that he was not interested in a relationship with John, or anyone else for that matter, so it came as quite the surprise when he started to have feelings for John. Unprecedented, in fact. It all started one autumn evening on their couch.

The two were watching crap telly when John fell asleep and slumped slowly against Sherlock, his head coming to rest on the taller man's shoulder. A kind of spark started up in his belly as the doctor began to snore lightly against him. He sat in a bit of a daze, pondering the feeling at hand. It was halfway between a stomach ache and a fairly good high. It actually felt pretty good, and he didn't like it. Not one bit.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, your comments and kudos keep me happy. Constructive criticism is welcome. Hope you guys like this one.


End file.
